Farm legends :: :: University of Virginia Library

Put all his things in the garret—
All o' his working gear;
He's never a-going to wear it,
Never again coming here.
If he gets sick, deaf, or blind,
If he falls and breaks his leg,
He can borrow an organ an' grind,
He can hobble about and beg.
Let him run—good luck behind him! ...
I wonder which way they went?
I suppose I might follow an' find him.—
But no! let him keep to his bent!
I'm never a-going to go
For a boy that runs off with the show!

Lay his books up in the chamber;
He never will want them now;
Never did want them much.
He al'ays could run and clamber,
Make somersets on the mow,
Hand-springs, cart-wheels, an' such,
And other profitless turning;
But when it came to learning,
He would always shirk somehow!

I was trimming him out for a preacher,
When he got over being wild

(He was always a sturdy creature—
A sinfully thrifty child);
A Cartwright preacher, perhaps,
As could eat strong boiled dinners,
Talk straight to saucy chaps,
And knock down fightin' sinners;
I told him of all Heaven's mercies,
Raked his sins o'er and o'er,
Made him learn Scripture verses,
Half a thousand or more;
I sung the hymn-book through him.
I whipped the Bible into him,
In grace to make him grow:
What did such training call for?
What did I name him Paul for?—
To have him run off with a show?

All o' the wicked things
That are found in circus rings,
I taught him to abhor 'em;
But he always was crazy for 'em.
I know what such follies be;
For once in my life—woe's me—
Let's see—
'Twas the fall before Paul was born—
I myself was crazy for shows.
How it happened, Goodness knows:
But howe'er it did befall—
Whate'er may ha' been the reason—
For once I went to all
The circuses of the season.
I watched 'em, high an' low,
Painfully try to be jolly;
I laughed at the tricks o' the clown:
I went and saw their folly,
In order to preach it down:
Little enough did I know
That Paul would run off with a show!

What'll they do with the boy?
They'll stand him upon a horse,
To his exceeding joy,
To teach him to ride, of course.
Sakes! he can do that now!
He can whip old Jim to a jump,
And ride upon him standing,
And never get a thump—
Never a bit of harm.
He has trained all the beasts on the farm,

From the ducks to the brindle cow,
To follow his commanding.
Sakes! that it should be so!
Him's I've brought up i' the bosom
Of church, and all things good:
All my pains—I shall lose 'em—
Might have known that I would.
I had hopes beyond my countin',
I had faith as big as a mountain;
But somehow I knew all the while
He'd turn out in some such style—
Always had that fear.

Well, he's never comin' back here.
If he comes to any harm,
If he falls an' sprains his arm,
If he slips and breaks his leg,
He can hobble about an' beg.
He can—Who is that boy out there, Jane,
Skulkin' 'long by the railroad track,
Head an' feet all bare, Jane,
One eye dressed in black?

My boy! Come in! come in!
Come in! come in! come in!
Come in—you sha'n't be hurt.
Come in—you shall rest—you shall rest.
Why, you're all over blood an' dirt!
Did they hurt you?—well, well, it's too bad.
So you thought the old home the best?
You won't run off ag'in?
Well, come in, come in, poor lad;
Come in—come in—come in!